As Well
by Izzy-Lawliet
Summary: You always hated her, or so I thought. But...in the end, when it came to it, you loved her as well, didn't you?


I just needed to write something quickly. I wasn't in the mood to write anything else, and I probably won't be for a while…

**Warning: Cussing, Death, implied-rape **

**Disclaimer: I do not own the characters. I do, however, own the plot.

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I don't know.

I just don't.

And you expect me to? What kind of person are you? Why are you so selfish that you can't just deal with the fact that she's gone and you're not the center of attention because you're the baby of the family and you '_hurt_'? I was the closest to her, better than anyone, and you just pretend you care so you don't seem selfish and you can fuck your girlfriend once everyone leaves us alone.

I would hate to be her. I'm not though, _thank God_.

You're a selfish arrogant pig, a disgrace to the family. And you expect to let our aunt to let you into her house after I told her what you did while you weren't at home. She hates you now, just like the rest of the family will when I tell them what you really are like. Not some innocent little soul who's as prude as a two-year old.

But maybe it's just me. I didn't stop him from doing what he did to you. For corrupting you. And maybe that's the real reason you're crying. You're using the mask of the family death to cover up the fact that you're crying and letting out your emotions because you were never able to, not even around me. Even though I asked you to, told you that I'm always there for you.

Because, in truth, we both knew that wasn't true. I was leaving, and most likely never coming back. If the reason I was staying was now gone, then what's the point in staying?

"Roxas?" You called to me through your tears, your arms opening and signaling me to come over and hug you. You were my baby brother, I had to.

"Kairi, go get him some water," I said to your girlfriend, not wanting her to be around me. And sending her to the kitchen was the perfect way. In there, the adults are drinking away their sorrows and are bawling up storms. She'll be caught in there for at least twenty to thirty-six minutes.

"Roxy, why did she have to go?" You were referring to Aerith, our mother-lie figure for the past seventeen years. She's been sick, and you and I have been helping her to try and get better. You would make her food and do her laundry and I would change and help her shower. You always made fun of me for 'crushing on' Aerith. But I never did. She was our mother, I never thought of her that way. Yes, she was exceptionally pretty, but nothing about her made me feel like you do with Kairi.

"That's not why you're crying, is it?" I asked, whispering so only you could here. When I looked to you, your eyes were wide while you opened and closed your mouth, trying to get something out. "Sora, you don't have to lie to me."

"No…" You sobbed, falling back into my chest and cried harder.

"Y'know, it's over now, he's not going to get you again." I comforted you. My mouth only just moving, making it seem like you just missed Aerith and I was consoling you.

"I know, but I can't help feel like he can…" You were talking about our dad, whose name and face I don't remember. He hurt you, and then left. Almost right after our mother passed and left us to Aerith. That was six years ago and you still couldn't get over it. That's alright; I guess I still love you…occasionally.

When you calmed down, I sat up, going to the open coffin and peering in at Aerith. I felt tears start to run down my cheeks and I wiped at them furiously. I couldn't cry; I shouldn't be able to. I cried way too much already, now it was your turn, even if it wasn't for the right reason.

Aerith looked peaceful, she looked somewhat happy as she lay still in the coffin. I don't think she looked disgusting as the others say. I didn't see the withering brightness to her skin, the wrinkles that were overtaking her face as she had aged, and the weakened muscles that had started to fade with the lack of being able to do anything. She was as beautiful as that day when we went to the beach and you and I played in the sand. We had to have been at least seven or even six. She laughed at something we did, and when the sun hit her, it made her look like she was an angel.

You had laughed at me when I said that out loud. I remember telling her that everyday when someone would come in and make her feel like crap. She loved it. She loved me. And probably still does.

And that's the price of smoking. Cancer of the lungs and she ended up on a respirator. And you can only keep that in for so long. Once they removed that, she couldn't breathe.

I remember that day, you and I were sitting there, watching breathlessly as Dr. Legg pulled out the tube. I was squeezing your hand as hard as I could. I was scared that she wouldn't make it. And when she didn't, I collapsed, crying.

But that was before.

This is now.

I felt you walk up next to me and look in the casket with me. I felt your hand grasp mine tightly.

I guess you loved her as well.


End file.
